


'cause dragon teeth ain't worried about letting go.

by chaoticism



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Six of Crows Fusion, Angst, Cigarettes, Denial of Feelings, Drinking, Explicit Language, Gambling, Gangsters, Guns, Implied Sexual Content, Jeon Jungkook is Whipped, Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin are Best Friends, Knives, Lots of Angst, M/M, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Whipped, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Sex Club, Sex workers, Supernatural Elements, light fluff, mostly angst, this is gonna be a long one, this is heavily based on soc but its also... not, who's surprised
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 10:57:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20173111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticism/pseuds/chaoticism
Summary: It wasn’t until Yoongi started to button his shirt back up that Taehyung made an attempt to look him in the eyes, realizing that he hadn’t asked the most important question there was:“What’s the job?”The ravenhead froze and Taehyung tensed. This wasn’t going to be good and they both knew it.“We’re breaking into the Ice Court.”Taehyung stood there, staring at Min Yoongi and wondered how someone so methodical, and logical, and quick-witted, and realistic could be such a fucking idiot. The Ice Court, he huffed as the thought entered his mind. The impenetrable and armored Ice Court. Yoongi wanted a boat load of criminals to break into a prison willingly with their odds leaning much more towards them getting caught than anything else.or the soc au that no one asked for





	'cause dragon teeth ain't worried about letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this one chapter for like four days so hopefully i can crank the next one out in the same amount of time. have fun reading ig?

# Taehyung

  


He knew the night was going to be long as soon as Yoongi swung open the door to the club, his signature grimace already on full display. The harsh bustling and lively atmosphere of _ Singularity, _once filled with the yells, hoots, and hollers of their fellow gang members all came to a slow halt when he entered. Taehyung didn’t bother looking up from his glass until he absolutely had to, but didn’t hold back the sigh that left his lips as Yoongi laid on the theatrics. He righted himself on the barstool and—

Well, it wasn’t anything new. Taehyung would look up and catch Yoongi’s familiar dark brown eyes on more than one occasion, tonight was no exception. When their gazes met, Yoongi’s eyes flickered towards the battered old wooden staircase. Taehyung wondered why, with the amount of money they racked up from all the damn jobs they’ve done, they couldn’t have hired someone to fix the damn stairs before it caved in on one of them.

It was only when Taehyung gave the barest impression of an agreement, in this case it was a raise of his eyebrows, that the ravenhead continued to walk—to _ limp _ ; the loud thumping of his cane against the floorboards reverberated throughout the club and Taehyung stopped wondering as soon as he started about if Yoongi was being that loud on purpose because _ yes, he was. _

_ Dramatic bastard _, he thought, rolling his eyes easily as he held back the grin that fought to make its way onto Taehyung’s face. 

“You should go,” Jeongguk muttered to his right, reaching across with his right arm to grab the glass that Taehyung left on the bar before pulling back and bringing it up to his lips and downing the rest of it without preamble. The elder let himself smile at the way his friend’s face contorted in disgust and confusion as he swallowed after slamming the glass back down onto the counter like the damn barbarian he was. “What the hell, Taehyung.”

His smile didn’t falter as he stood up from his barstool, nor when he patted Jeongguk on the shoulder. He relished in the scowl the younger sent him.The noise level in the club slowly climbed back up to its normal state, putting Taehyung at ease, as if a balance had been restored. “You should drink more water.” 

“Why is it in a whiskey glass?” The brunette questioned, a pout forming around his words and Taehyung couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“All of the other glasses were dirty.” 

Jeongguk groaned and rolled his eyes petulantly. Taehyung tried not to look too fond of his friend’s childishness, but somehow he knew he was failing miserably. “Water, Jeonggukie. Drink more, so you don’t die young.” The younger let out a scoff and eyed him warily. 

“I’m more likely to die from a gunshot wound out here than from dehydration, _ Taehyungie. _” Taehyung scrunched up his nose at the nickname, much like how Jeongguk did when he did the same just a few moments before. 

“Let’s hope it’s neither.”

“Let’s.”

Walking up the stairs was much less daunting now than it was a few years ago, when Taehyung’s indenture had been paid off—or transferred to someone else rather—it was funny; seven years ago he was locked away in a whore house and he shuddered at the mere thought of Min Yoongi, and now…

Well, now, on a good day, he can call him a colleague; a friend, even. 

“You summoned?” Taehyung schooled his tone and expression into something flat and neutral as he walked into the small closet-sized room that Yoongi deemed appropriate for an office. Taehyung had told him a few years ago that an office couldn’t have been so small, there wasn’t enough room to breathe or think, let alone get any work done. Yoongi hadn’t paid him any mind, not that he ever did anyway, not unless he needed something. 

Like now. 

“I asked nicely.”

“You and the word nice don’t belong in the same sentence.” Taehyung leaned back against the door frame and smirked at the glare Yoongi shot him, letting the elder grumble for a few more seconds before clearing his throat. “Why am I here?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t love being in my presence,” Yoongi quipped back quickly, without a thought, and Taehyung let out a wry laugh. 

“Right, of course.” The younger of the two let out a huff before Yoongi finally turned to face him, examining a small pin in his hand. Taehyung tilted his head to the side to get a better look at the object; _ pretty _was the only word that came to mind as he studied it. It was small, yes, but the deep green at the head of the pin was what caught Taehyung’s eye. The pin itself was some kind of cheap gold that probably rusted off, but the emerald—the emerald made it stand out. 

Very few people around Seoul could afford emeralds, and those few people did not include Yoongi, which rose about a dozen questions about the nature of _ how _he got his hands on it. Yoongi seemed to have read his mind because when Taehyung looked up again and sucked in the breath to ask, the elder was tossing the pin into Taehyung’s hands and stripping off his coat. 

“I got it off a merch.” 

“They let you go within ten feet of a merch and didn’t think to tie you up?” Taehyung asked, inspecting the jewel closely. He’d only ever seen real emeralds up close due to his former employer, she always had the damn things hanging around her neck. Holding it alone left him feeling an unbelievable rush, he can only imagine how she felt wearing them. He was so enraptured by the damn thing that he missed Yoongi’s chuckle completely.

“They did have me tied up, but that isn’t the point,” At that, Taehyung scrunched his eyebrows together and gave the elder a confused look that was met with no explanation whatsoever. Taehyung doesn’t know what he was expecting at this point. “I have a proposition for you.” 

Taehyung blinked and Yoongi rose an eyebrow. “Is it a proposition if you know I’ll say yes?” Yoongi pursed his lips at the question.

“Will you?”

“I have to.” Taehyung stood straighter at the chuckle he didn’t miss. Yoongi had always been sadistic when it came to teasing and riling; quite frankly, Taehyung was in no mood for his bullshit tonight. 

“That’s not true and you know it. You are more than welcome to turn down any job offer. I can replace you with any of the other spiders downstairs that would be more than willing to join me.” The way he said it left a bitter taste in Taehyung’s mouth, If he was so easily replaceable then why ask in the first place? “You’ve made a name for yourself out there, Wraith. People fear you, but it’s not _ just _you they fear, so if you don’t want to do this I’m not going to force you.” The elder sounded sincere, and it was times like these that Taehyung wanted to believe him, but he knew better. 

He was _ taught _better. 

Taehyung swallowed and looked down, flaring his nostrils as he took in a sharp breath. 

“Just tell me.”

Sadist meet masochist. 

“What’s your dream, Taehyung?” The questioned earned him another confused look and an unsettling lurch in Taehyung’s stomach because it wasn’t any of his business, whether he had it figured out or not. 

_ Freedom. _

Yes. Yes, that, but more than that. He wanted—He wanted to be able to share that. He wanted—

_ Freedom and love. _

_ And maybe a goddamn emerald necklace _. Taehyung shut his eyes and shook his head once. “I don’t know.” He opened his eyes to find Yoongi squinting at him as if he was listening to his thoughts, staring straight into his soul while he began leaning his weight onto his cane, causing the floorboards to creak in agony. 

They really needed to get this place fixed. 

“You’re a shit liar, Wraith.” Taehyung’s expression didn’t change, but his heart pounded in his ears and in his fingertips, and the elder’s lips twitched up into what Taehyung thought could have been the faintest semblance of a smile, or whatever Yoongi did when he was amused. “Doesn’t matter. Dream or not, you start getting ideas when you’ve got four billion won in your pocket.” 

Taehyung blanched from his spot on the door frame and figured that was the reaction Yoongi must have wanted because the elder wasted no time launching into his rant,

“You heard me right, four billion big ones to fill your pockets. Now, tell me to explain.” Taehyung scowled at him but obeyed. “The damn merch offered me a job—he offered _ us _a job—”

“Who is us?”

“Don’t interrupt, _ Taehyungie _, it’s not polite.” Taehyung rolled his eyes and wondered what the odds were that Jeongguk and Yoongi would say it in the exact same tone on the same night. “But since you’re so eager to know, I’ll tell you. It will be me, you, Jeongguk, Jimin—”

“Jimin?”

“What did I just say?”

“I don’t know, old man, what did you say?” 

“I’m only two years older than you.” The elder scrunched his eyebrows together and Taehyung shrugged indifferently. Yoongi rolled his eyes and Taehyung figured that this was how the whole night was going to go. “Jimin and Hoseok. Oh, and one surprise.” Yoongi listed. Taehyung knew better than to interrupt again. 

“It’s thirty billion won, Taehyung. Tell me that’s an offer that you want to pass up.” Yoongi set his cane aside and leaned back against the desk as he started removing his gloves.

Taehyung didn’t know what it was about Yoongi and his gloves. There were tall tales spread all around Seoul about Yoongi hands, how they were horribly mutilated, covered in bites and burns and scars. Others said that his hands were perpetually stained by blood; that one was just silly, but looking at them now, Taehyung could see there was nothing physically wrong with them. 

Maybe he just didn’t want to be touched by anyone around here. Taehyung understood that more than anyone, having more than a few pairs of unwanted hands roaming his skin. 

He held in a shudder and when he refocused, Yoongi was scrubbing his bare chest down with a wet rag. The sight alone was enough for Taehyung to go red, averting his eyes to the cracks in the floor and then to the unmoving ceiling fan. Yoongi had no damn manners. The rumor was that the streets of Seoul raised him and Taehyung never believed it until moments like these where he showed no remorse for his indecency. 

It wasn’t until Yoongi started to button his shirt back up that Taehyung made an attempt to look him in the eyes, realizing that he hadn’t asked the most important question there was:

“What’s the job?” 

The ravenhead froze and Taehyung tensed. This wasn’t going to be good and they both knew it. 

“We’re breaking into the Ice Court.” 

Taehyung stood there, staring at Min Yoongi and wondered how someone so methodical, and logical, and quick-witted, and _ realistic _ could be such a fucking idiot. _ The Ice Court, _he huffed as the thought entered his mind. The impenetrable and armored Ice Court. Yoongi wanted a boat load of criminals to break into a prison willingly with their odds leaning much more towards them getting caught than anything else. 

“I can hear the gears in your head turning, Wraith.” 

Taehyung said nothing. 

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t honestly believe that we could do it, Taehyung. And I do. We can do this, this will work—”

“And if it doesn’t?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side. “What happens if one of your little recruits decides they don’t want to risk their freedom? Or if someone gets sick, if someone gets _ hurt _? There are too many variables that are out of your control.” 

“Taehyung,” Yoongi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and this reminded him of something; of his parents bickering in the other room while they thought he slept. Yoongi used the same tone and inflection that his father did when he was exasperated with his mother’s nagging and that made the whole situation feel too _ domestic _for the conversation they were having. 

“Admit it.” Taehyung said, willing the thoughts away. 

“You know better than to underestimate my ability to plan.” 

“I’m sorry if I’m worried that this won’t be all golden, gay, and auspicious like you think it will be. It’s not just you doing this, Yoongi, it’s all of us. We all have something to lose—”

“What? What could you _ possibly _ have to lose? I made sure I chose a team that had the least to live for.” 

Taehyung bristled. “And who exactly are you to be the judge of that?” 

“If I chose a team with the least to lose, and I’m the _ leader _,” Yoongi narrowed his eyebrows at Taehyung. “I’ll let you figure out what that means.” Taehyung imagined what it would feel like to punch Min Yoongi in the face plenty of times, but this was the only time where he had to keep a hand gripping his dominant wrist to keep it from happening. “You have eight hours, if you haven’t gotten back to me by then I’ll ask someone else.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


# Jeongguk

When Taehyung came back downstairs he seemed flustered, undoubtedly because of something Yoongi said, or maybe Yoongi hadn’t said anything at all. Maybe he had the courage to do what Jeongguk didn’t, to—

That little green monster was going to be the death of him. It made his mind run rampant with stupid ideas that would probably never happen; not with him _ or _with Yoongi. Taehyung was very clearly too good for the both of them. 

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Taehyung’s voice was as smooth and sweet as honey, Jeongguk could and would wax poetic about his voice and his eyes and his skin and his brain all day, every day, if someone would let him. Unfortunately for him, everyone in their gang knew better. He wasn’t quite sure when his crush on Taehyung started, he just woke up one day wanting to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe and it just kind of escalated from there. It didn’t take long for him to realize that there were a lot of people who looked at Taehyung the same way he did, including Yoongi, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. 

In Jeongguk’s mind, he was pretty good at keeping his little crush under wraps, but he could be giving himself too much credit (he definitely was). 

His only hope was that Taehyung was truly as oblivious as he seemed. Sure, it was his crush, but Taehyung had been his best friend for longer, and really, Jeongguk would rather die than lose that with him. 

Jeongguk was nodding his head to Taehyung’s question before the elder had even finished. 

  
  


Taehyung was quiet, more contemplative than normal, not that Jeongguk expected anything less. The only reason they ever left the cushy comfort of their rooms above the club was because Taehyung needed to think on something outside of the confines of his small four walls and the walk didn’t end until Taehyung had resolved whatever conflict that was raging in his head. Jeongguk never pried during these walks, always waited for Taehyung to speak first, if he spoke at all, and if Taehyung asked him for his opinion for whatever vague scenario he came up with, Jeongguk was completely honest in his answer. 

So they walked. 

And really, these walks were good for Jeongguk too. Being with Taehyung kept him away from the tables that would forever haunt him with the high of a good streak. It also got him out of the cramped and sticky atmosphere of their beloved club; he and Taehyung had a theory that the lights were so low because Yoongi and the old man were trying to make the rest of them go blind. Plus, the city didn’t look so ugly—so _ dirty _in the moonlight. Jeongguk loved the moon, always loved all the stories about the men who sat in the waxing crescents, and the goddesses who just wanted to be loved that surrounded her. She lit the streets at night during jobs and manhunts, and damn was she a sight for sore eyes, but—

Nights like these, it kind of seemed like the moon, the stars, and Taehyung were all competing to see which one of them was the prettiest, and Jeongguk loves his bright broad in the sky, but he thinks Taehyung wins every time. 

The elder’s steps were silent beside him and Jeongguk didn’t think he’d ever understand how that worked. Taehyung had a way of manipulating the quiet and the shadows into doing his bidding, it was like he phased in and out of reality at his own will. If he didn’t want to be seen he wouldn’t be. The only person who could never pull one over on was Yoongi, and when Jeongguk asked how, he was met with silence from the eldest. Not even Taehyung seemed to know how Yoongi tuned himself into every movement he made and every breath he took while everyone else was left to play catch up.

Jeongguk knew that Taehyung was doing him a courtesy by always announcing where he was and where he wasn’t, when he arrived and when he departed. He could have just as easily snuck up on him and scared the living daylights out of him. He could have left him confused and disoriented when they went on these walks in the dead of night, slipping away without another word; he’d done it before to Jimin, his best friend, earning him a swift hit to the back of the head the next time the elder saw him. Jeongguk wanted to ask _ why _exactly, but he feared if he did Taehyung would stop being so courteous. 

The younger of the two pulled himself out of his thoughts for long enough to catch Taehyung grinding his teeth together, jaw clenched tightly. 

The problem had to do with Yoongi, he figured. 

He was scary like this. Taehyung was scary when he was angry, but even when he was smiling and happy he was dangerous, both to Jeongguk’s heart and everyone else’s. Well, everyone else’s other appendages if they stepped out of line. Taehyung kept five knives, ring daggers, on him at all times. He’d been gifted more by Jimin and himself, but he kept them put away and protected in the safety of his room. His first set, the five he kept on him, all had names and were given to him by Yoongi a year after he joined the gang. 

Taehyung would never admit it out loud, but he loved those knives more than he loved most of the people he knew. 

“You’ve known him the longest, haven’t you?” _ Bingo _ . It _ was _about Yoongi, and Taehyung wasn’t looking for a second opinion. No, he wanted reassurance that he wasn’t crazy for trusting Yoongi with his life again. Not that anyone calling him crazy would change that; there was no fault in Taehyung’s loyalty to Yoongi and everyone knew that. 

Jeongguk hummed in response to his friend as the other shut his eyes and continued to walk. Walking around this place was muscle memory at this point. 

“I think he’s gonna get us all killed. 

“That’s never stopped you before.” At that, Taehyung huffed and Jeongguk tried his hardest not to chuckle at the look that his friend sent him. “Glare at me all you want, I’m right.” 

“Maybe you are.” Taehyung muttered before stopping in the middle of the street. Jeongguk would have been alarmed if the elder hadn’t done it a thousand times before. If a car came, Taehyung knew to get the fuck out of the way. “He’ll ask you tomorrow.” He said.

“And odds are I’ll say yes to whatever he asks of me.” 

“Right. You’d follow him blindly over a cliff.” Taehyung turned to look at him again as Jeongguk shrugged in agreement. 

“I owe him that much.” There wasn’t any fault in Jeongguk’s loyalty to Yoongi either. 

“You’re more than welcome to turn down any job offer.” Taehyung mumbled and Jeongguk scoffed before scoffing out a bitter _ yeah, right. _The elder frowned, gnawing at his bottom lip and picking at the skin that was there. “You’d really follow him?”

“Blindly.” He nodded. After everything Yoongi had done for him, there was no way he couldn’t. Taehyung tilted his head to the side before scrunching his eyebrows together. “What?”

“Nothing.” He answered softly, shaking his head in doing so. “We should start heading home.” 

Jeongguk’s heart froze in his chest and hesitated before nodding. He didn’t want to go home. If he went home he was going to think himself into a stupor and tire himself out by working himself up about the impossible. 

“You go.” Taehyung stopped to give him a weird look and Jeongguk slid his hands over both holsters that adorned his waist, the weight of his guns a reassuring presence on his body. Leave it to him to find comfort in a pair of revolvers. “I’ll find somewhere else to go, I’m not tired. And who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky,” He shrugged easily. Jeongguk knew he wasn’t going to get lucky, but he’ll worry about that later.

“Ok, I’ll go with you.” Jeongguk sent him a look, but Taehyung persisted in earnest. “I don’t mind.” 

“You hate clubs, especially around this time of night.” The younger pressed his lips into a line. The last thing he wanted was Taehyung _ babysitting _him in a place he wasn’t comfortable in.

Taehyung made a face and his lips pursed into something akin to a pout. “We live in a club, Jeongguk. I can’t hate them—”

“And yet you do.”

“_ Maybe _I do,” Taehyung glared and Jeongguk hid his small smile with a shake of his head. “You shouldn’t go alone, though.” 

“I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t, I’m just bored is all.” The brunette lied through his pretty teeth. 

“Go home and sleep, Taehyung.”

“I’m not tired either, you know.” Taehyung started as Jeongguk turned to walk the other way.

“The walk home will tire you out.” 

“Well, I want to tire myself out with you.” The sentence registered in Jeongguk’s brain and he proceeded to choke on his own saliva. Taehyung, however, didn’t seem to notice when he turned around, or if he did, he didn’t care. Jeongguk would add that to the ever growing pile of things that Taehyung has said that will haunt him forever. “Just let me come.” The elder breathed out. Jeongguk shut his eyes and wondered how long his mind had been in the gutter. 

“Jimin would kill me.” He said finally. 

Taehyung grinned at his cracked resolve. “Jimin doesn’t have to know.” He sauntered up to him, rocking back and forth on his heels like a child pleading for a sweet. 

“Jimin always knows.”

Taehyunge hummed in agreement. “Maybe, but you always say I’m your good luck charm, so maybe he _ won’t _ kill you if I’m around.” Jeongguk had called Taehyung his good luck charm _ once _ . He was about five drinks in, and with that came his “loose-lip syndrome”, that’s what Jimin called it. Jeongguk very embarassingly told his crush that he was in fact his good luck charm like a fucking _ idiot. _

“If I remember correctly, the last time I called you my good luck charm you said that if I believed that then I must be desperate.” He was. He was very desperate. 

“And you were,” Taehyung countered with the softest smile on his face and _ god _ did Jeongguk wish that smile was exclusively reserved for him. Taehyung has looked at him like this more than once and the warm, almost drunk, feeling that settled into his system might have been better than anything he’s ever experienced. 

“So what if I was?” 

“Don’t look so sad, Jeonggukie. You haven’t lost anything yet.”

“Yet,” He flung his hand over his heart, scandalized. “Do you have _ that _little faith in me, Taehyungie?” Instead of a sour face, he’s met with with a soft giggle and the elders tan arm getting looped with Jeongguk’s paler one. 

“I’m sure you’ll do beautifully,” Taehyung patted his forearm with his free hand. “Now, let’s go.”

Jeongguk huffed. “Yes, sir.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


# Yoongi

The moon was high in the sky when Yoongi started his trek into his city. For a man with a cane he moved quickly—swiftly—even on days like today where everything in his leg burned and ached every time he so much as twitched. The last thing he wanted to do was hike across town, but he had work to do and that work started with Jimin. 

Park Jimin was well known around Seoul being a healer despite not _ actually _ being a healer. He did have powers, just not those. He was better with persuasion and distraction. Jimin, like almost everyone else in Seoul, was a conman. He was an untrained and unseasoned refugee Grisha from Busan who set up shop on Yoongi’s territory three years ago. He brought in a decent amount for someone who wasn’t familiar with the city, so Yoongi didn’t tell him to fuck off. Instead, he hired Jimin to work in _ Serendipity, _their newer club, as a fortune teller and a heart healer. 

Heart healers were folktales. Bedtime stories that idiot parents told their idiot children, no one’s ever really seen one, and even if they did exist they wouldn’t be stupid enough to be out in the open. Not in this greedy city. 

Jimin made it work, though; he made grieving widows and widowers believe they were actually getting better, “mended” the broken hearts of teenagers, all for the price of three thousand won per session. He was Yoongi’s breadwinner. When all else failed on a bad day, he could count on the money that Jimin brought in to lift his spirits. And Yoongi wasn’t cruel, he let Jimin keep twenty percent of whatever he earned that day. 

Yoongi was proud of the _ Serendipity _ , sure _ Singularity _ was the first club he was put in charge of, but he built _ Serendipity _from the ground up, or paid others to do it for him. It was his pride and joy. The only downside of it was that it was on the other goddamn side of Seoul. He tried to keep the pain he felt seeping into his bones off of his face, and hoped for the life of him it worked because he was not going to be seen weakened by a damn cobblestone road. 

The relief on his face when he makes it to his club might be a bit too obvious, because even the matradee picks up on it. The man comes up to speak to him and everything. Yoongi wasn’t too sure what the hell he thought was happening. 

“Where’s Seungcheol?” The new matradee floundered while his coworkers seemed to be downright horrified. Apparently, no one had given him the memo. 

“Seungcheol-ssi is in the back with Jimin-ssi, sir.” The new matradee bowed his head to avoid eye contact despite being taller than Yoongi. Yoongi nodded slowly, pursing his lips as he scanned the club for its usual suspects. Kim Jongin was seated as his regular table, probably playing a losing hand, the poor miserable bastard. Kang Daniel had his hands all over a concubine that Yoongi couldn’t quite remember the name of, but he was sure to store that information for another day. His wife would not be happy about this. Shon Seungwan dragged herself out of the house to smoke a cigarette and drink with her ex-lover, Yoongi couldn’t say he was surprised. 

What he was surprised about, though, was when his eyes made it to the back of the club he spotted In Chunso. He scrunched his eyebrows together and wondered why the hell Chunso had invaded his club when they had their own to run—to _ ruin _. Chunso’s club was where Yoongi found Taehyung, where he would have found Jimin if he’d let him stay on the streets for another day.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Seungcheol’s voice drew his attention back to the front of the club. 

“Is he ready for me.” Yoongi asked, but Seungcheol knew that he was going to go back there whether Jimin had a client with him or not, so the answer was always going to be—

“Of course, Yoongi-ssi, right this way.” The taller man nodded, but not before sending a warning glance towards the new matradee. Yoongi guffawed at Seungcheol’s behavior after the man had turned his back and started leading him to the back room where Jimin resided. Jimin’s “office” reeked of jasmine, the bleach from the hair dye that he used every other week, and the cigarettes he smoked every day right before he had to see Yoongi. The now-blonde’s eyes were far away as the man across the table spoke on and on about his wife who had just recently passed. Jimin was zoned out, completely immersed in his own little fantasy, or whatever the hell went on in Park Jimin’s head. Yoongi didn’t get it. He had no time to daydream in the position he was in and yet here he was staring off into la-la-land like a child. 

Yoongi didn’t understand how his colleagues, members of one of the most well known gangs in Seoul, could get lost in their thoughts so quickly. He thought Jimin was smart, always being sharp and alert, but maybe Yoongi was wrong. Or maybe it was because he was a Grisha and it was all that heightened senses bullshit. Didn’t matter. The mere idea of not being on top of everything seemed foolish, honestly. Especially given where and how they live. Even Taehyung, his most vigilant and dangerous spy disappeared into his own head sometimes. 

“Yoongi,” Jimin’s tiny fingers snapped in his face and the elder frowned at his proximity. Jimin grinned before raising both his hands in surrender and taking a step back. “You doing alright there, boss?” Jimin took his step back as an opportunity to lean back against the very expensive table with all his weight. Jimin was small, but if anything happened to that damn table—

“I’m fine. How many did you have today?” Jimin huffed and crossed his arms over his chest and Yoongi held in a groan. 

_ Here we fucking go. _

“Welcome home, sweetheart. I put the kids to bed an hour ago and dinner’s on the table. How was _ your _day.” 

Yoongi wasn’t going to dignify Jimin calling himself dinner with a response. He sighed and mimicked Jimin’s petulant position, grinning as the blonde sent him a glare. “Hello, Jimin, I hope you had a wonderful and profitable day even though I only care about one of those things. You and I don’t have kids, now please get off the table before it breaks from underneath you.” 

“Are you calling me fat, jackass?”

“No, Jimin. I’m calling that table expensive.” 

“You are so damn lucky you’re cute.” Jimin rolled his eyes as he righted himself, cracking his neck and his back as he did so because yes, sitting in a chair and speaking all day must be so so hard. “I had fifteen people come in today, Seungcheol-ssi already took the earnings. Where’s Taehyung?” Jimin rose an eyebrow and Yoongi shrugged. “What did you do to him.” 

“Why do you assume it was me who did it?” 

“Because who do you think he goes to afterwards?”

“Jeongguk.” Yoongi countered easily, but there was an uncomfortable burning in his chest that he wanted to ignore.

“Jackass.” Jimin repeated with a scowl. Yoongi didn’t have time for this. 

“I need you for a job.”

“No.” Jimin’s face was impassive, pretty, but impassive. Jimin had always been conventionally attractive to Yoongi no matter what kind of face he was making. He’d heard Taehyung call the blonde “physically perfect” more than once and couldn’t help but agree to himself. He was glad Jimin was pretty, it helped lure clientele. 

Wait.

“The hell do you mean _ no _?”

“I’m convinced you’re deaf.” Jimin started to pick at his cuticles, completely unaware and uncaring of how confused and pissed off Yoongi was.

“Jimin, it wasn’t a question and you aren’t in a position to say no—”

“Yet I just did. Funny how that works, huh?” Jimin rose his eyes from his nail bed briefly to look at Yoongi’s face, and here’s the thing: Jimin wasn’t afraid of, or intimidated by Yoongi like everyone else was. Jimin saw right through him and some days it scared the living shit out of him. 

Jimin was his cobblestone street.

When they met, Jimin went along with him easily, but he would have been perfectly fine had he ended up somewhere else because Jimin didn’t give a damn. The only thing Jimin cared about was going back to Busan, serving the Grisha army, and—

“I have a way to get him out.” 

The got Jimin’s attention.

“You what?” 

“Now who’s deaf?”

“Stop fucking around, Yoongi. Tell me how.” He stood up and moved into the elder’s personal bubble. Yoongi let it slide for the time being, not wanting to waste time with his own foolish behaviors. He could do this for a few minutes. He inhaled and swallowed hard. 

“Well, we’re going to need you.” 

“Who is we?” Why were Taehyung and Jimin the exact same fucking person. 

“Me, Taehyung, Jeongguk, and Hoseok.”

“Why do we need Hobi?” Jimin looked at him incredulously. Yoongi shook his head and took a step back, not wanting to be breathing the same air that Jimin was breathing out anymore. 

“We need him for afterwards because once we have him everything is going to start moving very quickly, I need you to be on board _ now.” _Yoongi told him seriously and Jimin nodded immediately, blonde hair flouncing up and off his forehead before falling back gracefully as he did so. Yoongi can’t even imagine how much worse Jimin would have been if he had been trained all the way. 

“What do you need me to do?” 

“I need you to do what you do best,” Yoongi looked him in the eyes and Jimin frowned. “I need you to lie.” 

  
  
  
  


☾

  


When he finally felt that Jimin understood the severity of their plan, he made his gracefully exit. He should be worried about getting his money now. He should call Seungcheol over and tell him to get it before he hauled himself back home, but he can’t focus when In Chunso is just _ staring _at him. Normally, he wouldn’t care, he had gotten stared at everyday since he got the damn cane, but this was just unsettling. The emeralds that hung around their neck were gorgeous, and Yoongi could tell from here that they were real because even in the dull light of his club they shone. 

He could tell why Taehyung was so taken by the one on the pin earlier. 

Chunso’s stare was uncomfortable, but so damn captivating, he couldn’t look away. He didn’t realize he was ogling until Chunso was right in front of him. 

That was the weird thing about this damn club, time was relative. Things happened, but then it was like they hadn’t, and everything goes too slow and too fast at the same time. It was like they’d all been drugged. 

“Yoongi,” Their voice was annoying. Nasally, yet low pitched. Taehyung liked to mock them when he drank too much. “I hope you’ve been taking care of the cub.” Taehyung. They were talking about Taehyung. The way they spoke about him made Yoongi’s skin itch and his stomach twist. Taehyung must have—

_ Focus. _

“Taehyung can take care of himself just fine.” He gripped the head of his cane, but kept his chin jutted out pettishly. Chunso chuckled and looked down at their drink before setting his gaze on Yoongi again. It was just as uncomfortable up close, if not more so. 

“I’m sure you believe that, but you’ve seen how he is. He’s a child, he can’t keep up this _ wraith _charade much longer.” 

_ Breathe. _

“Seungcheol?” The music in the club was loud, and Yoongi knew his voice wasn’t loud enough to overpower it but Seungcheol was by his side in just a few seconds. “Bring what I need and make sure Chunso here vacates the premises immediately.” He kept his eyes locked on the chillingly blue ones that hardened as he spoke. “And if they come back let the dogs out.” Seungcheol bowed his head with a simple _ yes, sir _ before grabbing Chunso by the arm. 

“I can go by myself.” They wrenched their arm out of Seungcheol’s grasp before narrowing their eyebrows at Yoongi. “He can’t stay with you forever, Min. I have a feeling he’s already growing tired of you. I’ll bet twenty thousand won he’s back with me by the end of the year.” _ I would rather die than make that bet. _Yoongi stayed silent. “No? Alright, I’m going.” And with that, they took their leave, leaving an unsettled Yoongi behind. He wasn’t going to respond, they were already halfway to the door, he could keep his composure until they were outside, until their were out of each other’s lines of vision. He could do that, most definitely. 

“Sir?”

“What?” Yoongi snapped. It was harsher than intended, but Seungcheol didn’t flinch. He knew he tolerated this guy for a reason. The taller man handed Yoongi a small case and he let out a breath. _ Finding solace in money isn’t healthy, you know _. He could hear Taehyung’s voice giving an opinion that Yoongi never asked for, but still expected. He grabbed the case and shoved it in his jacket pocket. “Have a good night, Seungcheol.” 

“You too, sir.” 

Yoongi’s night had gone to shit much earlier than this, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow my [twitter](twitter.com/egirlryu)


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